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‘What did he say?’
Silence.
‘Mr Ambrose?’
‘He said: nobody is.’
‘Oh.’
Smart man.
Turning, Mr Ambrose gazed over at me.
‘I believe our business is finished here, Miss Linton. Agreed?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Striding over to me, he held out a hand. Without even thinking about it, I took it, and he pulled me up with an ease that might be due to the strength in his arms, but was still very good for my ego. Those strong arms of his slid around me, pulling me close.
‘My, my, Sir,’ I whispered, batting my eyelashes up at him. ‘Aren’t you brazen! I will have you know that I am a decent young lady who is not in the habit of compromising her reputation.’
Dark, sea-coloured eyes glittered down at me, their depths swirling, drawing me in. ‘You’re a bad liar, Miss Linton.’
‘No I’m not!’
‘To me you are,’ he told me, one hand taking hold of my jaw, drawing me up towards him. ‘I see you. I know you. All of you.’
Fierce heat rose inside me. Sliding my arms around his neck, I pulled him close and crushed him against me for one hard, sweet second.
‘Me too,’ I whispered. ‘And I’ll never look away.’
My arms loosened at the same instant his did, but we never let go. Holding on to each other, we stepped out into the corridor. No one was left out there. The soldiers had escorted their king and minister back to the palace, and the audience had long since made themselves scarce. In silence, we descended the stairs, heading towards the exit.
‘Where’s Claudette?’ I asked Mr Ambrose when we reached the bottom.
‘Probably at home locked in a room with thick walls, laughing intensely. For some mysterious reason, she seemed to find it quite amusing to play the revolutionary assassin.’
I grinned up at him. ‘I can imagine.’
‘What perturbs me, Miss Linton, is that yes, you probably can. Remind me to take your gun away before we return to England, will you?’
‘Ha! You just try that and see what happens.’
We had reached the entrance by now, and I pulled open the door, giving a slight curtsy. ‘Gentlemen first.’
He gave me a stern look, but he did step out first. Which meant that when Lord Dalgiesh’s arm lashed out of the darkness, it was not me he grabbed.
Plots within Plots
Mr
Ambrose reacted faster than the eye could blink. In the fraction of a second, he had twisted out of Lord Dalgliesh’s grip, and his hand was on his revolver, ready to draw. I, unfortunately, was a little bit farther behind, my hand furiously rummaging around for my weapon in the folds of my dress. Bloody hell, I should have worn trousers and damn the consequences!
‘No need for weapons, Lord Ambrose,’ Lord Dalgliesh said, his eyes glittering. ‘I’m not here to kill you.’
A muscle in Mr Ambrose’s jaw twitched at the sound of the title he hated, the heritage he despised. ‘Now why do I find that difficult to believe?’
‘Oh, I will destroy you. Just not here. Not tonight.’
